Disclaimer: I don’t own JAG, we all know who they belong to. All the books in the “Dark is Rising”
sequence were written by Susan Cooper. The poem at the very end was writen by Frost.
Page 1
Saturday, April 19
2330 Local
Mac’s Apartment
The cold rain was pounding incessantly outside the window, creating a staccato beat that resounded softly throughout the apartment. Every few seconds lightening would flash in the stormy sky, illuminating the dark living room in an eerie blue light. The following crash of thunder could be felt through the floorboards, and the particularly loud rumbles would cause the windows to rattle slightly. Between flashes of light, little could be seen in the home. Smoke could be seen rising from a dark candle that had burned out a few moments before, and there were no other sources of light to be seen.
Marine Colonel Sarah Mackenzie made no move to re-light the candle. Clad in her uniform, she sat curled up in the corner of her couch, one arm wrapped protectively around her knees, hugging them to her chest. She rested her head on the other hand, which she had tucked up under her chin. The spring storm had knocked the power out for half the county, and after the initial shock of being in the dark she realized that she actually preferred the darkness. The small candle had already been lit when the power went out, and for a few hours it had added an almost warm glow to the room. But when it had finally fizzled out, she had felt only relief. The warmth was so out of place with what she was feeling, and darkness brought with it a sense of anonymity that she desperately needed right now. Maybe if she couldn’t see anything, she could try to forget what she had done.
Occasionally, she would bring one hand up to try in vain to wipe away the tears that were sliding quietly down her cheeks. She had stopped trying to stem the flow hours ago. It was one thing to keep her feelings locked up at the office, when she could fall back on her identity as a marine, but the instant she walked into her own home she was just Sarah, and the façade crumbled into nothingness. There was nothing to hide her feelings behind when she was Sarah, and no one here to hide her feelings from except herself.
Idly, she noticed that the tracks the tears were leaving were cold; that in fact the whole room was beginning to feel chilly. With the power out, she should probably find a sweatshirt to put on, or at least a blanket to cover up with. It was such a struggle to focus on anything but the turbulent memories, though, that her mind wandered off before she could really think about getting up. Her head felt like it weighed fifty pounds, and she couldn’t seem to hold on to a coherent thought for more than a moment. They came and went so quickly that she just couldn’t grasp on to one. She could only think of all the things that had happened in the last two weeks. So still she sat in the dark, in the cold, staring unseeingly towards the window. Unknown to her, her hands were clenched into fists so tightly that she would later find scars on her palm from where her nails were digging into the flesh.
God, what had she done?
Pressing her eyes closed, she tried desperately to stop the questions. Besides, she already knew the answer to that one. She just didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about anything. What she really wanted was a drink. Her eyes snapped open at that thought, and she covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to contemplate the thought. A drink would be so nice right now. What better way to forget about all your worries? A nice, alcohol induced coma would do wonders. It would just be for one night.
But she knew better than that, and painstakingly lifted her head, deciding that it was time to do something other than think about alcohol. She slowly stretched her legs out, wincing a little as her cramped muscles protested loudly. She hadn’t moved for hours, and it took a little time to straighten her legs and swing her feet down to the floor. The cold of the floor on her bare feet was rousing, and it helped to clear her head a little bit.
“Change clothes, get a blanket,” she mumbled thickly as she rested a moment before standing. Finally summoning the strength to rise, she used her hands on her knees as leverage and unfolded her slight body until she was standing. A little unsteadily, she began what seemed like a long walk down the dark hall to her bedroom. Weaving precariously, she reached a hand out to the wall, and let her fingers trail across the surface for guidance. Just as she entered the bedroom, a strong wave of dizziness hit her, and she lurched to one side. Unable to get her bearings between the dizziness and the darkness, she careened into her dresser, hitting her hip solidly on the corner. With a yelp, she fell to the ground.
“That hurt!” She yelled violently at the ceiling, and the tears started all over again. Curling into a ball on the floor, she wrapped her arms around herself and cried. Sobbing, she rolled over and used the comforter on her bed to pull herself up into a sitting position. Leaning her head against the cotton, appreciating the coolness on her flushed cheeks, she struggled against the tears. Finally, hiccupping and breathless, she got herself under some semblance of control again. Sitting there on the floor of her darkened bedroom, exhausted and all cried out for the time being, she realized how hungry she was. When had she last eaten? The day before yesterday? The day before that? She couldn’t quite remember. It had been at least that long since she’d changed her clothes. Unacceptable. She was a marine, damn it! Wiping angrily at the tears that remained on her face, she spoke out loud. “Okay. Shower, clothes, blanket, food.” A plan she could deal with.
This time when she stood, she held firmly onto the bedpost for a moment until the room stopped spinning. Leaning heavily on one secure object after another, she made her way back to the doorway to the bathroom and was startled when the lights came back on. Blinking in the suddenly bright light, she slowly went through the process of finding some clothes to wear, stripping out of her three-day-old uniform, and making her way into the shower. She stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it pound away at her knotted muscles and wishing it could wash her worries away. Sighing, she finally turned the water off, quickly dried herself and slipped into a pair of faded blue sweat pants and a loose white tee-shirt.
Now that she was clean again, the hunger hit her full force, ripping through her stomach and leaving her short of breath. She almost welcomed it though; the hunger was distracting. And that was exactly what she needed right now. What she wanted, though, was to talk to someone, anyone really. Well maybe not anyone. “I can’t even tell myself the truth,” she muttered as she began to rummage through her refrigerator for something edible. Slamming the door shut in frustration when she found nothing, she instead picked up the phone and dialed the Chinese take out place down the street. ‘Thank God for late-night delivery.’ She was so hungry she couldn’t decide what to order, so she finally settled on some sweet and sour chicken, shrimp fried rice, egg rolls, General Tao’s chicken, and some spicy duck. ‘Oh well,’ she thought. If I don’t eat it now I’ll eat it later.’
Now that she knew she would have to wait a bit for the food, her mind wandered back to what she really wanted. *Harm,* she thought miserably. But she had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to see him a few days ago, so how could she go running to him now? Especially after what had happened on Wednesday. She couldn’t bear to face him, or anyone else at the office. It was all her fault. And even though everyone had told her it wasn’t, she could see in the way they avoided her gaze and the way the whispered conversations followed her that they knew the truth. Every one knew. *It was all her fault.*
Wrapping a warm woolen blanket around her shoulders, she sat down on the couch again. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry anymore. It didn’t help anything; she’d learned that a long time ago. Staring off into space, she almost missed the knock at the door when it came a few minutes later. Jumping up, she grabbed a handful of money, quickly checked through the peephole to make sure it was the delivery boy, and swung the door open. Practically ripping the bags from him, she handed him enough money for the food and an ample tip, slammed the door in his face, and headed towards the table after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘Only useful thing in there,’ she thought.
Sitting down, she tore through the food. She’d eaten all the chicken and rice before she was able to even slow herself down. After the frantic pace slowed, she began to think again. Just less than two weeks ago, she’d gotten the phone call that had been the catalyst for all the things that had led her to this place.
Sunday, April 6
0830 Local
Georgetown
Mac was pounding down the sidewalk that ran alongside Main Street in downtown Georgetown. The town was still quiet this early on weekends, and the only other people she had seen were other joggers or locals walking their dogs. It was hazy and unusually warm for an April morning in northern Virginia, ‘But,’ she thought wryly, ‘it certainly feels good after all the snow we’ve had this winter.’ No one was going to catch her complaining. The incessant snow had made it impossible to get a decent run in for most of the winter, and when the weather had finally cooperated, she hadn’t had the time. She hadn’t had a day to herself in more than a month. She smiled at the memory of the admiral’s expression last Friday when she had asked for some time off. He’d looked fairly stunned.
“No, sir. It’s just that I haven’t had a break in a while, and after the mess with Albarado I’m a little worn out. If you think this is a bad time, I can always take leave some other time…” She’d allowed herself to trail off. She was feeling pretty burned out; tired and irritable all the time and she would really rather not wait to take a break. She felt stretched too thin.
Admiral Chegwidden had looked at her incredulously for a moment. Not that she blamed him, she rarely asked for leave if there wasn’t some form of emergency. But after a moment, his expression cleared and became understanding. “No, no, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m assuming one week will be enough time?” At her nod, he continued, “Alright then, finish what you can today, and I’ll let you decide how to distribute the rest. We’ll see you Monday after next.”
It felt so good to be running again. The exertion caused a healthy burning in her lungs and got her blood pumping and it all made her feel so very refreshed. ‘Maybe,” she thought with a grin, ‘I didn’t really need a week off. I could have just asked for a day to spend at the gym.’ A block from her apartment she slowed down to a walk to cool off. Breathing deeply, she clasped her arms over her head and stretched luxuriously, wincing just slightly at the pain in her left shoulder. On a whim, she decided to take the long way home and grab a bagel for breakfast at the local bakery. It really was a beautiful day to be out. On the way down to the shop, she let her mind wander back to the Albarado case.
Master Chief Robert Albarado had seemed like such a nice guy. That was part of the reason she’d accepted the case. Because, unlike most times, she had had a choice in this instance. The Albarado case was to be tried in civil court, but he’d asked for military representation. The Admiral had asked her if she’d be willing to represent the Master Chief, and she told him she’d meet with him before she gave her final decision.
Albarado was accused of a heinous crime. A month ago, Albarado had left his eight year old son home alone while he traveled down to the local grocery store. The explosion that ripped through the house while he was away was so forceful that only traces of the boy’s body had been found. Upon investigation, it was determined that a gas leak had caused the explosion. The civilian prosecutor, one Miles O’Brian, had concluded that Albarado had let the gas leak with the intention of igniting the blaze that killed his son.
Mac had gone to meet the defendant with a bit of apprehension. When she first met him, she kept her initial feelings guarded, but the more she talked to him the more she felt for him. He’d married his high school sweetheart right out of college, and the marriage had lasted. He had spoken lovingly of his deceased wife, talking about all the little things that had made their relationship work. After years of fertility problems, she had finally become pregnant nine years ago. The little boy was also to be named Robert, but they’d referred to him as Bobby even before he was born. The look on Rob’s face as he spoke of the joy of finally having a child was pure happiness.
But his expression had sobered as he told of the difficult pregnancy, and the day that his son was born was fated to also be the day that his wife died. The look in Rob Albarado’s eyes as he spoke of the despair he had felt was heart-wrenching, and Mac felt herself believing him more and more as he continued to recount his story. Albarado had thrown himself into being a father. Bobby had everything his father could afford to give him from day one. And the son soon filled the gaping hole that the death of his soul mate had left.
Mac remembered so clearly his final plea to her. “Why,” he whispered, “would I kill him? He was all I had left. We were going camping that weekend. We had a cabin reserved out in Front Royal. Why would I kill him?”
And she had believed him. So she threw herself into the case. Working late every night, she tried to come up with a viable defense. She knew that the prosecution’s murder charge could be deflected with everything that he had told her, she set about trying to figure out what had really happened. Involuntary manslaughter was hardly a misdemeanor, but she was at a loss as to how to prove that it wasn’t his fault. You can’t just leave a child unsupervised for a length of time. He wasn’t a stupid man, and in the end Mac had decided that he really just had a lapse of judgment. It was awful, but everybody made mistakes. Believing he hadn’t set the blaze intentionally, she was going to have to rely on an impassioned plea from the Master Chief on the witness stand.
He had delivered. The perfect combination of composure and heart break, he told his story for the jury, and the prosecution was unable to shake him. He had asked Mac that day what she thought the chances were he’d be convicted.
“I don’t think you’ll be convicted of murder, Master Chief,” she had responded as he was taken away by the bailiff. But that wasn’t the answer he wanted, and she watched his shoulder’s slump and his feet drag as he left the courtroom.
Two days later everything had changed. As she had expected, he was found not-guilty for murder, but guilty for reckless endangerment and involuntary manslaughter. The memory was as clear as day in her mind’s eye. As she had turned to console the chief, she was surprised at his response to the verdict. Standing with his head down and his fists clenched, he had his eyes shut tightly. Reaching a tentative hand out to him, she gave his shoulder what was meant to be a comforting squeeze. She could hardly have expected his response.
Albarado exploded, snapping his hand around to grab her wrist painfully, twisting it hard enough for Mac to hear a loud pop from her shoulder area. Pain caused her to gasp and fold over at the waist, trying to alleviate the pressure. Caught off guard, hurting, and with her arm being twisted like that, she could do little about the situation. As she dimly heard the bailiff shout for the master chief to let go, she saw Albarado snap his arm back, his fist still clenched. Even in a compromising situation, she wasn’t going to let *that* happen. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder, she ducked to the left as he swung his fist at her. When he missed, his momentum carried him off balance and he finally let go of her arm. With the bailiff’s help, she forced Albarado to the ground. Then she let the court security take over, and watched as they half led, half dragged him away, screaming profanities at her, the judge, the prosecutor, and just about everyone else present. Craning her head around so she could see her shoulder, she grimaced at the clearly dislocated joint.
“Here let me get help you with that.” The prosecuting attorney had crossed to be standing next to her, looking seriously at her shoulder. “Stand still, this is going to hurt.”
Her response was typical. “I’m a marine, O’Brian; I can handle a dislocated shoulder.”
“No doubt,” he’d muttered, then he swiftly lifted her arm while pressing down on the shoulder joint. Another loud pop, a small gasp from Mac, and it was back in place.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
That had been only a few days ago, but having a single Saturday to just do nothing had already done wonders for her mental health. After ordering her cinnamon raisin bagel, she rubbed her shoulder at the remembered pain. Of course she could handle it, but it didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. It had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. She decided that day to ask for some leave. Being a lawyer shouldn’t involve risking bodily harm! She’d only barely managed to swallow that comment when talking to the admiral, but she hadn’t been able to keep from telling Harm her thoughts. He’d laughed and said, “Semper fi, marine. Suck it up.” The words belied the genuine concern he’d shown her when she first told him about the incident. He could only laugh now that he knew the man who’d hurt her was behind bars.
Harm. Munching on her bagel, she allowed her mind to drift to happier thoughts as she headed back home. Their sometimes indefinable relationship had become much less so lately. They both seemed to be on the same page, and they had been spending a lot of time together outside of JAG. Whether a late-night dinner to wrap up a difficult case, or just a night spent enjoying each other’s company while eating dinner and watching a movie, they were definitely headed towards something new. And for once, neither was showing any signs of hesitancy. This new relationship was moving slowly, but it was more out of mutual respect than any qualms either of them had about the relationship itself. Things were going slowly, but they were moving forward without any bumps in the road at all. The thought made her smile.
She was shaken out of her reverie when she heard the phone ringing inside her apartment. Jogging the last few steps down the hallway, she quickly unlocked the door and fairly threw herself at the phone.
“‘Kenzie,” she said breathlessly.
“Mac?” Harms voice on the other end of the phone caused gentle warmth to rise up her neck. A little startled by her own reaction, she had to swallow before she could respond.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s up, Harm?”
“Mac, have you been watching the news?”
The tone of his voice caused her heart to drop. “What? No, why? What’s wrong?”
“Well, ZNN just reported, and I’ve confirmed it with Miles O’Brian. Albarado escaped from the county jail.”
Sunday, April 6
0920 Local
Mac’s Apartment
“What did you just say?”
“He escaped. Apparently they were moving him to an isolation block. He managed to grab one of the guards’ guns, held them all at bay and fled. Shot and killed two guards on the way out.”
Mac slowly lowered herself to sit on the arm of her couch, trying to get her breath back. The news had literally knocked the wind out of her.
“Mac?”
“Yeah?” Monosyllabic was the safest way to go for the moment.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have all of the details yet, we’ll have to get the official report from the station.”
“Right.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know, Harm. It’s just…wow. Where are you now?”
“On my way to headquarters.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Hanging up, she tossed the rest of her bagel and grabbed a quick shower. Changing hurriedly into her uniform, she was on her way out when she realized the Admiral should know what was going on. Dialing his number, she impatiently tapped her fingers on the side table while she waited for someone to pick up. The phone rang several times, and she was just about to hang up when someone picked up.
“Chegwidden.”
“Admiral, this is Colonel Mackenzie. I’m sorry to call you at home, sir-”
“That’s alright, Mac,” he interrupted her. “Harm already called me and filled me in. I assume you’re on your way to JAG?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll see you there. And Mac?”
“Sir?”
“Things will work out.”
She pondered that for a moment after she set the phone down. Of course things would be fine. Why would he even say that? Unless…. ‘Oh geez,’ she thought. ‘He probably thinks I’m about to teeter off the edge from exhaustion. Oh well. I’ll have to worry about that later.’ Snapping out of it, she picked up her keys and headed out the door.
Sunday, April 6
0945 Local
JAG Headquarters
Mac whipped her little red Corvette into her usual spot with a squeal of tires. She swiftly made her way to the bullpen, and came to a startled stop just inside the double doors. The place was absolutely teeming with people. Military personnel, Fairfax County and DC police officers were all scurrying about, using every available desk space and then some. Up along the wall nearest her office, a large white board had been set up. All that was written on the board at this point was “0750, Sunday 6: Prisoner escaped.” Well that answered that question. She was still looking around when Petty Officer Tiner spotted her from across the room.
“Colonel,” he called as he came up to her. “The Admiral is waiting for you in his office.”
“Thanks, Tiner.” She was admitted to the office as soon as she knocked. She noticed the number of people in the room even as she strode up to the large desk and stood at attention. Besides the Admiral and herself, Harm was there in his usual spot to her left. Lieutenant Roberts was just to her right, and Miles O’Brian stood quietly off to one side. Two men she didn’t recognize were standing on either side of Harm. One had a black jacket with white block letters reading NPD on the back. The other had on a ball cap that identified him as a Fairfax County policeman. Altogether, it was a crowd.
“Good morning, Colonel, at ease. I know you weren’t planning on working this week.” He seemed to be studying her as he spoke. She had been right, although it was to be expected. She had essentially told him she absolutely needed a break, and here she was without the opportunity.
“That’s alright, sir. Special circumstances.”
Admiral Chegwidden wasn’t one to pry, and her response seemed to satisfy him, for now at least. “Indeed. You know Miles O’Brian.” She gave him a small smile. “And let me introduce Ed Burns, chief of the NPD, and Joe Fields, Fairfax County police chief.” Mac nodded at each of them politely, but coolly. She was wondering if this was going to turn into a cat fight over jurisdiction. “They have each agreed to let us handle the search. Their personnel will be gone within the half hour.”
Her surprise must have registered on her face, because Mr. Burns gave her an unfriendly grin, displaying a mouthful of yellow, crooked teeth. “Don’t look so surprised, Colonel. We’re not unreasonable people. Besides, we have better things to do than spend our time chasing murderous sailors across Hell and high water. We thought you would appreciate the gesture. ‘Protecting your own’ and all that nonsense.”
By the time he was finished speaking, Mac was visibly bristling. She did *not* like his tone. He made it sound as if the Navy as just choc-full of murderers and people willing to protect them. Before she had a chance to formulate a response, however, the admiral spoke up.
“Much appreciated,” he said shortly, with a cold glare at each chief. “Will that be all?” It was clearly a dismissal, and they turned and left as one. “Although those…gentlemen…” his voice showed his disgust, “don’t put much stock in finding a convicted killer who’s on the loose, Mr. O’Brian here has offered his services.”
With a grim smile, the civilian attorney offered an explanation. “I thought I’d help go back through the case with you,” he said to Mac. “It might do to have someone else familiar with the case on the search team.”
From the corner of her eye, Mac thought she saw a pained look cross Harm’s face. Turning her head a fraction, she had to suppress a smile at his indignant expression. Harm had never liked working with civilian attorneys. But Mac had come to respect O’Brian, and she spoke to head off Harm before he could think of a reason to have him excluded. Looking at the admiral, she said, “That’s probably a good idea, sir. We’re going to have to cast a wide net fairly quickly if we hope to catch him before he skips town.”
Bud, who had been standing quietly throughout, cocked his head at that. “Ma’am, do you really think that’s his plan? Rumor has it he was pretty violent at the sentencing hearing. Sounded like he was out for revenge.”
They all paused for a moment to digest that. “Well,” began Miles slowly, “he has already injured the colonel once.”
As the men all turned to look at her, Mac thought, ‘Uh-oh. This is not the direction we need to go right now.’ She once again saw Harm stiffen to her right. In the words of Richard Gere, ‘Time for a tap dance.’
“First of all, I wasn’t really hurt. Secondly, that incident was only after the verdict was read. He was bound to be upset. He only yelled a little at the sentencing hearing.” She knew she sounded defensive, but with them all looking at her like that she couldn’t help it.
“He was handcuffed and shackled at the sentencing hearing!” Harm barely avoided yelling at her. He took a deep, calming breath and continued, “And, Mac, a dislocated shoulder isn’t ‘nothing.’”
“It’s a minor something. It’s fine now. Besides, we need everyone we can get who has had exposure to Albarado.”
“I agree with that,” contributed O’Brian. “That’s the only reason I’m here at all.” Mac flashed him a grateful smile, which he returned.
Sounding nearly desperate, Rabb turned to the admiral. “Sir, with all due respect to the Colonel, she probably isn’t the best one for the job. It could be dangerous!”
‘It must take,’ thought the admiral, ‘an extremely intelligent man to find so many different ways to get his foot stuck in his mouth. Of all the stupid things to say…’ Bud was the only one who kept a straight face, falling back on years of experience schooling his features to complete neutrality, no matter what kind of bombs these two dropped.
O’Brian raised his eyebrows in surprise at the Commander’s comment. Whenever the Colonel had mentioned him, she had spoken of a relationship of mutual respect. This didn’t sound like it. And besides, she certainly didn’t seem inept or fragile to him. ‘What,’ thought Miles, ‘must be the relationship between these two?’
Admiral Chegwidden had to fight to keep from laughing outright in the Commander’s face. ‘These two,’ he thought, swallowing the laugh-barely-, ‘can be just too much sometimes.’ Deciding he couldn’t avoid laughing if he kept looking into Harm’s fervent face, he glanced at Mac. Big mistake. Even with his face set in a permanent frown, he nearly grinned. This was Marine Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie at her best.
Initially, Mac’s jaw had dropped and her eyes had widened in surprise at the erroneous statement. However, she had since recovered. She was strung as tight as a high wire as she drew herself to full height. She snapped her jaw shut with an audible click, and narrowed her eyes on her prey. Nostrils flared, she moved to within arm’s length of Harm and glared daggers at him. ‘I am marine,’ thought Chegwidden. ‘Hear me roar.’ Still trying to do physical damage with her eyes, she spoke to the Admiral. “With all due respect to the Commander, sir,” she ground out through clenched teeth, “I’m sure I can handle whatever comes my way.”
‘Time to end this.’ “I agree, Colonel,” said the admiral matter-of-factly.
“Mac,” Harm pleaded, “you wanted to take a vacation.”
“Some other time.” Mac was still flushed with anger and her jaw muscles were still ticking, but she turned to face Admiral Chegwidden.
“Mac-”
“Enough. The three of you,” he gestured to Mac, Harm, and Miles, “will work together to find Albarado. Is that acceptable, Commander?” His gaze dared Harm to say no.
“Yes, sir.”
“Great. Lieutenant Roberts will help when he can, but remember he will be devoting much of his time to helping Commander Turner with the Layton appeal. Get to work, people.”